Strangers Like Me
by Charlie'sLostVampire
Summary: Inspired by the song by Phil Collins: Damon's body may be in the 21st century, but his mind is trapped in 1863, with no recollection of Elena, nor anything they've been through. How, you may ask? Why? Well, you'll just have to read and find out! More to come soon! R&R?
1. Losing My Memory

Klaus paced angrily in the parlor of the manor, his footsteps echoing throughout the enormous house. He needed Elena's blood to make his hybrids, but a certain Salvatore brother was constantly making it increasingly difficult to obtain it. He had Stefan under control, thanks to a little good old compulsion to cater to his every whim, but Damon…

Damon drove him insane. Didn't he realize how much easier on everyone it would be if he would simply share Elena? Stupid fool, so in love with her he couldn't bear the thought of anyone else touching her. If only there was a way to make him not feel the need to protect her…

Trailing off, Klaus' eyes widened. _Wait. _

_Compulsion. _It had been the answer to everything all along! The only problem was, he didn't want to have Damon Salvatore hanging on his every word like his little brother currently was; the eldest Salvatore brother happened to get on his last nerve very easily, simply with his Better Than You attitude.

Pausing, Klaus furrowed his brow. Surely Damon hadn't _always _been such a stuck up sod.

"Stefan!" he yelled, and the young Salvatore swaggered into the room and leaned against the doorframe.

"What?"

"What was your brother like before you both became vampires? Was he always an insufferable know-it-all?"

Stefan raised an eyebrow. "When we were human? Oh, Damon was a bore. Your regular good old fashioned Southern gentleman. The only time he was a know-it-all was when facing off with our father."

"I see," Klaus nodded, a smirk blossoming on his lips. "And what year was it that you met Katerina?"

Stefan frowned a bit curiously, muttering, "1864… why?"

"Oh, no real reason. Just doing a bit of research. Now leave me be."

Rolling his eyes, Stefan walked out of the room, leaving Klaus on his own to smirk at the evil plot formulating in his head. Seconds later, he was out the door and heading for the boarding house.

… . … . … . … . …

Grabbing his jacket and shrugging it on, Damon walked down the stairs and into the parlor, searching for his car keys. Elena had called him a few minutes ago, asking him to come over and help her search for her diary. She was assuming that she had just misplaced it, but was a bit worried that a hybrid or someone may have nabbed it in hopes of using her dirty secrets against her.

As ridiculous as the theory was, Damon knew she would worry about it until he found the diary and put it to rest. So, it was off to the Gilbert's he needed to go.

However, something in the parlor caught his attention, distracting him from heading off to his destination.

Rather, _someone _distracted him.

"What's the matter, Damon; not happy to see me?"

Glaring, Damon snarled and took a step closer. "What do you want, _Klaus?_"

"Oh, nothing, really. For once, I'm not after your little girlfriend." Smirking, Klaus advanced on Damon. "I'm after _you._"

Damon sneered, repeating his question, "_What do you want?_"

"Well, I'm going to give you two options. Option number one; you give me Elena, I leave town with her, and we all live happily ever after."

Damon snorted. "Like hell!"

Klaus tutted, "A shame… I really don't think you're going to like option number two…" Smirking more broadly, he flashed forward and pinned Damon to the wall, gazing deeply into his shocked blue eyes.

"_It's 1863. You know nothing about vampires and demons other than that your father has an irrational fear of them. You've never met a woman named Katherine Pierce. You're just a lowly human boy who's being forced against his will to go off to battle by his father._"

Immediately, Damon stopped struggling. His venomous snarl and narrowed blue eyes were washed away, replaced by a perplexed look of confusion behind wide crystalline orbs. Klaus smirked before blurring from the house, leaving Damon to his stunned state of mind.

Looking around the unfamiliar parlor of the boarding house, Damon brought a hand up to touch his head, blinking. "Hello?" he called, taking a step forward and glancing around. "Hello…?"

However, he paused once he looked down and caught sight of his jeans, black button down and leather jacket, muttering, "What on earth am I wearing…?"

… . … . … . … . …

Elena was pacing around her bedroom with her cellphone in hand, frowning deeply. Damon had told her that he would be over right away.

It had been two hours. Where the hell was he?

Punching his number into her phone, she put it to her ear. It rang, and rang, and ran but he didn't answer. This wasn't like him. If Damon said he would be here, he _always _was. Not to mention, he never declined a phone call from her, let alone declined twelve. Sighing, she decided to just go over to the boarding house and see what could possibly be keeping him. Her diary could wait until later.

… . … . … . … . …

Damon had never been more skittish in his entire life. He was evidently lost, not to mention hopelessly confused. How in hell had he even gotten to this strange place, dressed in such peculiar clothes?

_And what was that horrible sound that kept happening every few moments? _

He had practically jumped out of his skin when the loud chiming had sounded inside the pocket of the jacket he was wearing, and he'd taken it off and tossed it half way across the room, startled. He wasn't sure what it was; some horrible Union invention, perhaps? Whatever it was, it couldn't be safe, and had to be avoided at any cost.

At the moment, Damon was wandering around the kitchen, marveling at all the strange devices located there, wondering what on earth they were.

"Damon? Damon, are you home?"

His blue eyes widening and head snapping up, Damon backed into the fridge loudly with fright. It was the voice of a woman; perhaps the camp had been invaded last night, and he was being held captive in some strange Union base?

Looking frantically for some type of weapon to use to defend himself, he settled on a kitchen knife, holding it out in front of him, his hand shaking.

"Who are you?" he yelled, "How do you know me?"

Seconds later a young woman appeared, poking her head into the room. His eyes nearly bugged out of his head at her appearance, clearly shocked.

"Damon, what are you…?"

"_What are you wearing, ma'am?_" he breathed, stunned.

Elena raised an eyebrow as she stood in the doorway, glancing down at her outfit. "Umm… jeans from Old Navy? Why…?"

"Well, it's highly improper for ladies to wear trousers! Where did you even find a pair so small…?"

Elena's eyes narrowed with confusion. "Damon, what are you talking about…?"

"_How do you know who I am?_"

She frowned, and Damon flinched back when his cellphone rang again in the other room. "What is that awful noise?" he cried, and Elena frowned, turning on her heal and walking into the parlor, pulling his cellphone out of his jacket pocket and checking the number, noticing the 13 Missed Calls light flashing on the screen.

"Damon, what's going on with you?" she asked as she walked back into the kitchen where he was cowering against the fridge.

"_Who are you?_"

"Don't be stupid, Damon, this isn't funny…"

"_Who are you?!_"

Flinching at his tone, she responded, "Elena. Damon, it's me, Elena."

"I'm sorry, _Elena, _but I have no idea who you are, nor where I am. Now, if you'll please just release me from this place…"

"Damon, what are you talking about? You live here…"

"I most certainly do not!" Damon said, and Elena frowned.

"Well… where do you think you live?"

Damon frowned. "I live in Mystic Falls, with my brother and father."

"Father…?" Elena mumbled with confusion, and then her eyes widened. "Damon… what year is it?"

Puzzled at her question, Damon responded quickly with, "1863, of course. How could you possibly not know that?"

Blinking rapidly, Elena gaped at him in shock. _He really didn't know who she was!_

"Oh, my God…"


	2. Explanation

Damon's expression became puzzled by Elena's words and her slightly frightened expression, and his gentlemanly side got the better of him as he placed the kitchen knife down, realizing she didn't intend on harming him, and walked over to her side, cautiously touching her arm. "Miss Elena? Are you alright?"

Glancing up at him, her brown eyes wide, she shook her head. "No, I'm not. Damon, you don't remember me…"

Frowning slightly, he shook his head. "I likely should, but I don't. I apologize."

Sighing, she ran a hand through her long brown hair. "I don't even understand how something like this could happen. The only time anything like this ever happened before was when you were bitten by Tyler…"

"Bitten by Tyler…?" Damon asked, clearly confused at her statement and Elena shook her head.

"Right; no memory of that. Oh, what am I going to do…?"

Noticing her slipping into a state of panic, Damon carefully took her arm and led her over to the parlor, helping her sit down and taking a seat beside her. "Just calm down, ma'am; everything will be fine…"

Biting her lip, Elena turned her gaze back up to his face, marveling at the innocence shining in his eyes. It was a look she'd never seen on Damon before, as long as she'd known him. "Damon, what's the last thing you remember before you found yourself here?"

Pausing, Damon furrowed his brow in thought, biting his lip before answering. "Poker. I was playing poker last night with a few of the other soldiers… I went to sleep, then I was here… It was so odd, because I didn't wake up here, I was just… here. As though I'd already been awake…"

Elena shook her head. "Damon, you aren't in 1863. You're in the year 2010."

Damon blinked rapidly as he attempted to process what she had just said. "I'm… I'm _what…?_"

"It's 2010," Elena repeated. "There's no war going on; at least, not in America. We have," she held up his cellphone again, "cellphones, and other technology. No one kidnapped you; this is where you live, with Stefan, when he's not under compulsion. Your father is dead; he died back in 1864."

Damon gaped at her, attempting to keep up with her words. Cellphones (whatever in hell those were), his brother… under compulsion…? His father _dead…?_ "I'm not following…" Damon said, his voice hoarse. "What is compulsion… and how did my father die…?"

Sighing, Elena reached over and took his hand. "Damon, this is going to be a lot for you to take in. We should start off small… I can show you what Mystic Falls is like today if you want?"

Nodding, Damon got to his feet. He paused, though, glancing at his clothes again. "Would I be able to change into something more suitable before we go into town? I'm not entirely sure why on earth I would wear something so… dark."

Elena couldn't help it; she giggled at the look of disgust on his face. "Sure," she nodded, smiling. "Although you may have a hard time finding anything much different; black is basically the only color you wear. Sometimes blue. Once in a while gray or beige. But black is your 'thing'."

Damon frowned, fingering his shirt. "My 'thing'?" he asked skeptically, glancing up at her and Elena shrugged.

"Your thing, not mine. I wouldn't know the reasoning behind it."

Sighing, Damon nodded. "Could you point me toward somewhere I may find something that… isn't black?"

"Umm… maybe the attic?" Elena said with a shrug and Damon nodded, taking her hand and kissing it in thanks.

"Thank you, Miss Elena," he said, turning on his heel and marching up the stairs toward the attic door. Blushing at his gesture, Elena sat down to wait for his return.

… . … . … . … . …

Obviously searching for something close to his 1800s attire, Damon had taken much longer than Elena thought he would. She had lounged back on the couch, and was passed out within minutes. She hadn't gotten much sleep lately, having been searching for her diary day and night for the past few days.

Finally, satisfied with the loose with button up shirt and black trousers he had found upstairs, Damon wandered out of the attic, changed and ready to go. Ironically enough, with his old state of mind came his old habits, as well; one being running his hand through his hair constantly, and now it was a rumpled mass of normally very well controlled curls.

Walking into the living room again, Damon had opened his mouth to speak, closing it again quickly when he found Elena sleeping soundly. Smiling softly he walked over to the couch, crouching down beside it and gently brushing a lock of her straight brown hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear. "Miss Elena?" he whispered and she stirred, her eyelids fluttering open at the sound of his voice. As soon as her brown eyes locked on him, she was certain she had to be still dreaming.

_He looks like a prince out of an old movie, _she thought to herself, not blinking as she took in his rumpled, casual gentleman like appearance, noting that the top four buttons of his shirt were still undone; a habit he still kept today that allowed her to see the top of his perfectly sculpted chest…

Taking a shaky breath and finally blinking, Elena rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling, trying to calm her breathing.

"Are you alright?" Damon asked nervously and she nodded, sitting up.

"Fine. I'm fine, thank you…"

Getting to her feet, she attempted to smooth her messy brown hair. "You look… really nice, Damon," she finally commented quietly, her cheeks burning red.

Damon grinned, but it wasn't smug like it normally would be if he received a compliment; it was a pleasantly surprised, almost shy grin. "Thank you," he responded softly, offering her his arm. "Shall we?"

"You want to walk?" she asked, perplexed and he nodded, a small frown tugging at his lips.

"Unless you would prefer to ride into town…?"

"I… well, you see, we…" Sighing, unsure of how to explain to concept of cars, Elena offered Damon her hand. "Why don't I show you how we get to town these days?"

Nodding, Damon accepted her hand and allowed her to lead him outside.

… . … . … . … . … . …

"You use this strange piece of… metal to travel?" Damon asked, stunned as he ran a hand over the hood of his very own light blue Camaro.

"We do," Elena nodded, smiling a bit. "You do, actually; it's your car, not mine."

"Mine?" Damon asked, stunned and Elena nodded again.

"Yours. Although I doubt you know how to drive it, so we should probably take _my _car into town."

Damon swallowed a bit roughly, eyeing the car with nervousness. "Must we?" he asked softly, and Elena frowned, puzzled.

"What's wrong?" she asked, taking a step toward him and his cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

"Nothing, ma'am, it's just… well, I've never ridden in one before, and it doesn't seem all too safe to me…"

"You're scared?" Elena asked with a small frown and Damon frowned as well, shaking his head defensively.

"No! No, of course not. I'm not frightened of it, it just… doesn't seem… practical."

Sighing, Elena shrugged. "We can walk, I guess. It's really no big deal; town isn't that far out from here."

Damon nodded and smiled as he linked his arm through hers, pulling her down the long driveway. "Perfect. After all; a walk in the afternoon sunshine with a lady is a fine way to spend the day."

Blushing again, Elena looked down and shook her head. "I'm hardly the type of lady you're used to, Damon…"

Smiling softly, Damon shook his head. "I see no problem with you, miss… you're lovely."

Glancing up at him, her eyes twinkling, she giggled. "I'm lovely?"

He nodded, his smile spreading wider. "Possibly the loveliest woman I've ever met…" he smirked a bit, glancing at her attire once more. "I even quite admire your bravery to not wear corsets and dresses like most other women."

Elena grinned and shook her head. "Women don't dress like that anymore, Damon; they dress just like I do. You'll see," she told him as they walked down the road, arm in arm. She couldn't help but wonder what Stefan would think of this happening to his brother, had he not currently been shacking up with Klaus, catering to his every whim.

"So tell me, Damon; how old are you?" she asked curiously, and he grinned.

"Twenty-two. Yourself?"

"Eighteen," she nodded, smiling up at him. If only he knew…

"Only eighteen?" he asked, blinking, clearly surprised. "I'd have thought you were older; you're maturity is impeccable, and your beauty is even more so…"

Elena smiled weakly. "A lot of stuff has happened to me over the past few years… I didn't really have much of a choice than to mature."

Damon blinked, a small frown pulling at his lips. "What's happened, may I ask?"

She smiled weakly. "Well… for starters, my parents were killed almost two years ago. Then I lost my aunt and my uncle in a… tragic accident. Not to mention, I found out that said uncle is my biological father, and that I was adopted, _and _I witnessed my birth mother die… in a… fire…?"

Damon blinked rapidly. "I… I'm so sorry, had I known, I would never have asked…"

Elena smiled weakly. "Don't apologize, Damon. It's common knowledge around here. Well, maybe not about my mother, but everything else is."

Damon paused in their walking, just outside of town, and Elena frowned lightly with confusion. "Damon…? What is it-?"

"No young woman should have to suffer such unimaginable pain. I lost my mother at a young age, but that's the only true loss I've ever suffered… I can't even begin to imagine how you must have felt… how you must still feel."

Elena's breath hitched a bit with surprise when Damon's fingers gently brushed over her cheek, his blue eyes sincere as they gazed deeply into the depths of her own brown orbs.

"I… it's hard, yes," Elena whispered, a bit breathlessly, under his gaze.

"Is there anything I can do?" Damon asked softly, trailing his thumb down her cheekbone.

Elena shook her head, looking down, taking a shaky breath. "No… it's sweet of you to ask, but no… I'm fine. I've been fine… it was years ago. I'm pretty much over it."

Damon nodded, not seeming convinced, but he was too well mannered to pry. "Alright. Shall we go, then?"

He gestured toward the busy town, clearly a bit nervous, and Elena nodded, giving him a small smile. "We shall."

As the pair of them walked arm in arm into common day Mystic Falls, Elena couldn't help but cast a slightly distraught glance at Damon. He'd been her rock up until this point; the one she could always count on being strong, being fearless. But now he jumped at the sight of cars, and was just so… innocent; so sweet. Without _her _Damon… how was she going to get through the hell Klaus was causing everyone?


	3. Texting

Damon was clearly awestricken. Elena pulled him along with her through Mystic Falls, pausing so he could curiously walk into the few shops located on Main Street.

"It's all so… strange," he remarked as they looked around Sparks; the electronics store. Currently, Damon was marveling at a flat screen plasma TV, his blue eyes wide with wonder. "How is this accomplished?" he asked, turning to Elena.

She shrugged, standing beside him. "It's all got to do with sound waves and the speed of light or something like that; I really don't remember. I didn't pay attention in my Physics class."

Damon raised an eyebrow. "You didn't want to learn?"

"No, no; I was just too busy texting Matt to really pay attention."

Damon's first instinct was to ask what in the world texting was, but the name brought into the conversation made him pause, a small frown tugging at his lips. "_Matt?_" he asked, and Elena glanced up at him and nodded.

"Yeah; Matt Donovan. He was my boyfriend at the time."

"At the time?" Damon asked, raising an eyebrow again as they walked toward the cellphones. Elena nodded again.

"Yeah; we dated for a few years… before my parents died."

Damon frowned, but this time it was out of pure confusion. "You broke up because your parents died?"

Elena shook her head, realizing how shallow that made her sound. "No! No, of course not. I'd been meaning to break up with him for weeks, but I just couldn't bear to do it, and before I knew it… it happened." She shrugged, picking up a Blackberry and examining it.

"Can I… ask you something, Damon?" she began, and he nodded, stopping her before she could speak.

"I want to ask you something first, though."

Elena nodded, putting the phone down. "Okay."

"What in the world is _texting?_"

Laughing softly, Elena took his hand, leading him out of the store and back onto the sunny street. "I'll show you," she said, pulling out her cellphone as they walked. "This is my cellphone," she explained, switching it on. Damon's eyes widened when the screen lit up, and he turned to her.

"Is it like a TV?"

Elena shrugged a bit. "Sort of; you can watch videos on it, like a TV. But it does a lot more, too. For example; texting."

She opened up her messages and just randomly selected the first name on her speed dial, pausing when she realized it was none other than Damon's own name.

"Um…"

"You're texting… me?" he asked, perplexed. "Wouldn't I need a… cellphone to do that?"

Elena nodded. "The thing in your jacket pocket that kept scaring you? That was your cellphone. I… guess you're just the first person I would call if I ever needed something," she gave a small shrug, her cheeks turning a faint shade of pink as she scrolled to the next number, finding that it was Jeremy's name.

"Okay, watch this," she said as she began to type in letters, grinning as she felt Damon's eyes carefully watching her every move.

"It's like a typewriter," he stated and she laughed softly, nodding.

"It is, I suppose. Okay, and then once I have the message written, I click this button down here to send it."

Damon nodded as he watched, grinning when he saw _Sent _flash on the screen. "Fascinating…"

Elena giggled and shook her head as they walked into the park and she stashed her phone back in her pocket, linking her arm through his again. "Yeah, it is…" she agreed as they avoided a pair of children running past with a football.

"_Come on, Josh! Play!_"

"_But this game has no point!_" the younger of the two boys complained, trailing after him.

"_Not everything has a point! It's for 'fun'!_"

The younger boy groaned and shook his head, muttering, "_Fun is reading, not throwing a ball around… Where did you learn this game, anyway?_"

"_School; some older boys taught me._"

Elena noticed the wistful look in Damon's eyes, and his next question caught her off guard.

"Where is Stefan?"

"Um… Stefan?" Elena paused, unsure of what to tell him.

He nodded. "My brother; I'm sure he could help all of this make more sense…"

"Stefan is… with a friend. Well, he's more like his boss… The point is that he's really busy. He wouldn't have time to help."

Damon frowned and shook his head. "We're brothers; we always help each other, whether we're busy or not."

Elena sighed, taking a seat down in the grass, a look of regret on her face. "People change, Damon. I'm sorry, but Stefan… isn't the same brother you knew… know… Oh, I don't know…"

Damon looked taken aback by her statement, and slowly sat down beside her. "How has he changed?"

Elena picked at the grass, plucking a few blades out of the ground. "Ever since his… boss… hired him, he's been a different person. All he cares about is his work…"

Damon shook his head. "That doesn't sound like Stefan."

"Well, it is, okay? It is, and there's nothing we can do to change it."

Squeezing her eyes shut, she lied back in the grass in attempt to calm herself. Stefan's situation was a touchy subject, and she didn't like talking about it, let alone explaining it. Especially when she couldn't actually tell the truth.

Damon shook his head, speaking softly at the look of distress on her face. "There's always something you can do… It may be hard to think of that something, but there is _always _something…"

Opening her eyes, she shook her head. "We've tried everything. Reasoning with him… Nothing works. Believe me; if there was something I could do, I'd have done it by now."

In attempt to reassure her, Damon took her hand and kissed her knuckles, shaking his head. "Don't lose hope, Miss Elena; everything will turn out alright. I promise."

Gazing at him with a tired expression, she sighed. "You're so sweet… why are you so sweet?"

He frowned and shrugged a bit, releasing her hand. "It's just the way I was brought up to be. Would you rather I treated you differently?"

"No… it's nice, actually."

Elena gave him a weak smile, and he lied down in the grass beside her, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Well, I'm relieved to know you feel that way. I'd hate to know I had offended you in any way…"

Elena had to do her best not to laugh. Damon, offend her? No, no… _never…_

"Well, in your current state of mind, anyway, I think that's impossible," she explained, and he looked confused, but just nodded.

"I suppose…"

Rolling onto her side, she gazed over at him. "Can I ask my question now? You don't have to answer if it's too personal…"

Damon paused for a moment before nodding a bit nervously. "Alright; ask away."

"Your mother…" Elena prodded, scooting closer. "What happened to her?"

Damon's face turned ashen at the mention of his late mother, and a clear look of distress flickered in his eyes.

"I… I'd really prefer not to talk about it, if that's alright…" he whispered and she nodded, a bit startled by his strong reaction.

"Okay… Forget I asked. Are you hungry? We can walk to the Grill if you are…" She sat up and attempted to lighten the conversation again, and Damon shrugged but nodded.

"I am a bit hungry…"

"Well, then let's go," she said softly, holding her hand out to him as she stood.

Smiling weakly, he got to his feet and laced his fingers through hers. "Thank you, Miss Elena…"

"For what?" she asked curiously as they walked toward the sidewalk again.

"For not prying," he said simply, shrugging a bit. "Most people would have expected an answer. I hope you understand that, my mother's death is still very painful to think of… I just don't like to speak of it."

Elena nodded, giving his hand a small squeeze. "I understand."

Giving her a small smile, his eyes glimmered with curiosity as they walked. There was something special about this girl; about Elena Gilbert. Something he had never felt before for a girl… Oddly enough, it didn't seem to be a new emotion to him. It was as if he'd always felt this way for her, and had just been waiting for her to waltz into his life.

_Why was that?_


End file.
